Bat's don't actually like snooty parties
by RubberDuckyYou'reTheOne
Summary: You didn't really think that people who spent their nights jumping off rooftops and exposing the corrupt in Gotham would be able to just turn around, stand still, and be polite with said corrupt people, did you? Here's what really happens at those god-awful Wayne parties.
1. Chapter 1

**I am not in any way affiliated with DC or Batman except that I give them more money than I care to admit for comics. I also do not own anything Batman related**

Barbra Gordon circled the floor of the ballroom in Wayne Manor. The brilliant chandeliers sparkled and shone down on the people who surrounded her.

Barbra hated when her father dragged her to these things. As police commissioner, he held no small amount of power in the city, and these rich, corrupt socialites thought that if they invited him to their parties and, "Included" him in their circles, he would be in their pocket and show leniency when their crimes were discovered. It was laughable, really. Her father hated these things even more than she did.

Fortunately for her, she usually had a friend at these events. Dick Grayson. His father dragged him along to these things as well. They used to be able to simply join up when they both arrived and disappear into the shadows until their parents decide to leave.

But as Dick got older, he had to interact more and more with the society crowd. Now she almost couldn't tell the difference between him and the other socialites. They didn't disappear into the shadows anymore.

At least, not at these stupid parties.

Barbra sighed again, picking a flute of champagne off of a passing tray. She wasn't quite of age yet, but no one was looking just then, and if she was going to make it through the night, she would need to be slightly intoxicated.

Turning, Barbra walked to the edge of the mingling crowd, still searching for Dick, her father, anyone to make the night more bearable. Still not seeing one, she slouched against one of the columns and threw back the rest of her drink. Arms crossed, she watched as the rest of the partygoers moved around, talking and dancing and drinking.

Just as she was about to grab another drink, she sensed a person behind her. Turning, she saw another one of the Wayne family members. Tim Drake. He stared at her, taking in the empty champagne glass and the bored expression on her face. "Rough night?"

She grumbled slightly. "Oh, no. I enjoy standing around watching people smooch and snub each other, while I just sit here and watch them from the edge of the crowd."

He nodded, then joined her in leaning against the pillar. They watched the crowd for a few more seconds, then she spoke up again. "Have you seen Dick around?"

Tim grinned slightly, gesturing towards the dance floor. "I think he's off 'smooching and snubbing,' as you put it."

Looking in the direction he had pointed, Barbra saw Dick was in the middle of waltz with a scantily clad woman who was just a bit too old for him. Disgusted and more than a little disappointed, she turned to Tim again. "Wanna go somewhere else? I don't think that I can stand another second of this."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright, let's go. But can we make a quick stop first? I think the little demon needs some help."

She grinned, seeing that Damien was surrounded by some of Bruce's "Suitors," who were cooing and fawning over him in the hopes that they could get in good with his dad. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and his tightening fists suggested that he was moments away from punching and kicking his way out of their clutches.

They walked quickly towards him, dodging the other guests and waiters along the way. Tapping one of the women on the shoulder, she smiled brightly at their annoyed faces. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to borrow the kid for a moment."

Damien looked slightly relieved at their impromptu rescue, but then remembered to school his features into the indifferent mask he was known for. Ignoring the protests of the women, he brushed past and the trio made their way to the edge of the room, sneaking out in the shadows and making their way to the exit.

Standing on the balcony just outside the ballroom, the three looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Then Barbra got an idea. A wicked grin spread across her face as she eyed the roof above them. "That stretch up their looks kinda flat…" Trailing off, she looked at them as realization dawned.

Dick's face was extremely sore from all this smiling. He had no idea how Bruce did it, dancing with woman after woman, socializing with all of these stuck up pricks and making them think that he liked them.

As the notes of the song the band was playing faded into silence, he smiled down at his dance partner then sped away, hoping to make it out before someone latched onto him again, forcing him to keep up this charade.

Barbara was usually here by now, and they could sneak off somewhere to avoid all of these clowns. But he still couldn't see her. So, he went up to Bruce, who appeared to be deep in conversation with a few men he vaguely recognized from the mayor's office.  
>His father turned after he tapped him on the shoulder, and Dick leaned closer. "Have you seen Barbra?"<p>

He tilted his head towards the balcony. "She snuck off earlier with Tim and Damien."

He nodded, then made his way over to the doors. But when he made it out there, there was no one to be found. Frowning, Dick turned around, thinking they must have gone back inside, when he heard laughter coming from the roof.

Glancing surreptitiously at the windows, he leapt up onto the railing, then to the roof. There was a slightly flat area towards the center of the rooftop, and sitting there were Damien, Tim, and Barbra.

He was slightly shocked that Damien and Tim weren't fighting. Every time Bruce put them in the same place together, chaos ensued. Just last week they had come to blows on patrol, giving each other a fair amount of bruises. It had taken both himself and Batman to tear the two apart, and even then they had leapt onto each other the minute they got back to the Bat Cave.

But here they were, sitting on the roof playing what appeared to be Gin Rummy, peaceably and with smiles on their faces. How did Barbra do it?

All three turned simultaneously at the sound of his footsteps approaching. "What're you up to?"

Barbra studied him for a moment, still slightly peeved that he hadn't been there earlier. "We're avoiding all the clowns downstairs. Care to join in?"

Damien snorted. "Tt. I'm sure Grayson has no interest in us when there is smooching to be done down there."

Dick frowned. "Hey, I don't like this any more than you guys do, but I have a responsibility to Bruce."

All three rolled their eyes, but scooted over to make room when he sat down. Dealing him in, Barbra grinned as she saw his face twist ever so slightly when he saw his hand.

They played for a while, the game continuing indefinitely, when yet another person hopped onto the roof. They all turned and were shocked at what they saw.

"Room for one more?" Bruce asked, smiling inwardly at the shocked looks on their faces.

Tim looked curious. "Yeah, but… Don't you have to be down there?"

Bruce shrugged slightly. "Not at the moment." He sat down, accepting the cards that they gave him.

And if raised voices came up from below, shouting something that sounded vaguely like Bruce's name, they ignored it, playing well into the night.  
>—<p>

**AN: Not sure if this is a one shot or not; if you have a good idea, post it in a review and I might use it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. You rock!**

**Don't own batman, yaddah yaddah yaddah, you know the drill.**

**P.S. - steelec 1, are you secretly psychic or something?**

Alfred smiled politely as the last of the guests left the Mansion. When the door finally closed, he paused for a moment and closed his eyes, sighing. These really weren't nice people, and despite supposedly having 'class' as they called it, they still managed to leave a mess behind.

And then there was the small matter of Master Bruce disappearing half way through the party, and his negotiations with the mayor's liaison. The pig-headed buffoon had spent the rest of the night loudly (And drunkenly, if he was being quite frank) demanding that Bruce show himself, or the entire power of the mayor's office would be down upon him before he could blink.

The aging butler knew that he would have to find some subtle way of making Master Bruce pay for that. Maybe he would let Master Timothy try out his waffle recipe again. With a fire extinguisher at the ready, of course.

Alfred went to grab his broom and begin the tedious process of sweeping up the floor when he heard giggles coming from the open balcony door. He had found a couple out there earlier in quite the compromising position and had taken great pleasure in telling them to, as the kids say, get the f**k out.

Walking cautiously outside, he braced himself for another drunken and snooty aristocrat to escort of the premises. What he found made him want to… what was the term Master Richard had used? Oh, that's right, face-palm.

Master Bruce and his charges were sitting in a circle on the roof, along with Miss Gordon. A pile of cards were lying in the middle of the group, and they appeared to be getting along rather well, for once.

Alfred smirked inwardly. He had just found Master Bruce's punishment.

Clearing his throat loudly, he hopped onto the roof (Being in the Queen's service in his younger years had done wonders for his agility) and cleared his throat loudly. Five heads simultaneously whipped around to stare at him.

Master Richard was the first one to speak. "He… hey, Alfred. Is, ah, is the party over already?"

Alfred stared at the young master until he looked away uncomfortably. "Yes it is. In fact, it was over almost twenty minutes ago. I am quite appalled that you all didn't at the very least come down to see your guests out."  
>Master Timothy, ever the honest one, could not keep his mouth shut in the face of authority. How he could keep an entire secret identity is far beyond Alfred.<p>

"It wasn't our fault! Barbara—"

They all turned to look at the empty space where she had once been. Alfred noted that sometimes she seemed like more of a Bat than Master Bruce did. She certainly had the sneaky part mastered.

Master Damien, of course, could not waste the opportunity to antagonize Master Timothy. Which was exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Oh, please, Pennyworth. As if I would ever willingly spend time with this incompetent fool. We were merely—"

"Incompetent fool?! Excuse me, who was the one running scared from a bunch of Bruce's skank-y exes tonight?"

Damien scowled, but before he could get a word in, Bruce growled, "Skank-y?"

Master Richard grinned. "C'mon, Bruce, you gotta admit that they have a certain element of skank to them."

"How dare you speak to father this way?"

"That exactly what you said last week when one of them cornered you at the last party!"

"I said no such thing!"

Alfred stepped back and watched his handiwork unfold. The boys would be arguing for hours now, and Alfred would just be able to sit back and enjoy the show, so to speak.

"I bet you're pretty proud of yourself, huh?"

It took every ounce of control he had to not jump at the sound of Miss Gordon behind him. She really was a Bat.

Alfred primly hopped off the roof and dusted off his trousers, ignoring the sound of blows being exchanged. My, that had escalated rather quickly. Oh, well. They are more than capable of stitching themselves up this time.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Miss Gordon. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a ballroom to clean."


End file.
